


As Though Time Were Gone

by PreseaMoon



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreseaMoon/pseuds/PreseaMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judar has been rather troubled since returning to Kou from Balbadd. But at least he has Hakuryuu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Though Time Were Gone

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be something else entirely. Oh well. This is probably more, like, teetering back and forth between M and E rating.
> 
> …is rukh the singular and the plural…? But the more important question is, can rukh be a form of illumination??

Late into the night Judar lies awake in Hakuryuu’s bed. The moon piercing in through the curtains makes the off black of the prince’s hair gleam and the sparse adornments in the room glitter. It hits Hakuryuu’s front, outlining the curves of his body and leaving Judar behind him in the safety of shadows.

He’s snuck in without permission again, into Hakuryuu’s room, under warm covers. Once again he’s snaked his arms around Hakuryuu’s middle and quietly drawn him in while the prince pretended to be asleep.

There is not a single sanctuary left in this palace for him, or anywhere else in this world. There is nothing at all anywhere, but it feels a little less severe here, anchored to Hakuryuu and his aversion of Judar’s side of the world.

He presses his forehead between Hakuryuu’s shoulder blades and breathes in. The scent of nature, or some flower Judar couldn’t hope to identify, but it’s faint and vague like the intent is to blend into the air and disappear. Judar would disappear with him if he could, if either of them could.

Inside his head it’s all holes filled with fuzz and holes overflowing with murky water and holes with aching, echoing nothing reverberating all through his empty skull. In his head there were things that were not him but became him, and now they’re cleared away and it makes him feel…

It makes him feel.

He doesn’t know what to do with it.

He doesn’t want to do anything with it.

He doesn’t want to so much as think about it but it is all consuming. Looking away is not an option. It is a shard of ice melting and freezing and melting in his brain.

It’s all that little magi’s fault—Aladdin’s fault, his gift, blessing, and curse all bundled in one terrible headache.

Hakuryuu stirs in his arms. Realizing he’s unconsciously tightened his hold he loosens up. He presses his mouth to Hakuryuu’s skin. When he closes his eyes his eyelashes drag across skin that shivers at the touch.

Hakuryuu groans and shifts, trying to relax in the small enclosure of Judar’s arms. He exhales a sighing puff and ends up pulling away somewhat, closer to the mattress, farther from Judar.

Judar follows after, resting his face above Hakuryuu’s shoulder, on the pillow. He brings his body closer so Hakuryuu will seek its warmth on his own. That pleasant intermediary between wakefulness and sleep has engulfed him, where he won’t push Judar away as much as he likes to during the day and can’t resist aimless affection.

“Hakuryuu,” he coos at the prince’s ear, continuing to breathe out so he twitches against him.

Hakuryuu mumbles a response that’s mostly absorbed by the pillow.

Judar mouths along the curve of his neck and to his shoulder. “Hakuryuu, how about you come to a dungeon with me?”

Hakuryuu moans. “No.”

“Even if you won’t come to a dungeon with me, won’t you at least be my king?”

“No.”

Judar smiles mirthlessly. “That’s too bad. Because, you see, I’ve chosen you. Just like…” He takes a shaking breath and releases it slowly, counts until he loses track of the number. “You can say you aren’t my king all you want, but the truth is you don’t get a say. It’s my choice. That’s what a magi does.”

Judar has had many prospective kings, but he can’t name a single one that wasn’t chosen for him. What is a magi who doesn’t—or can’t, he doesn’t he even know which it is—choose his own kings?

He doesn’t know. 

He doesn’t know at all. But it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care, because he’s choosing a king now. He’s had a king chosen all along. Since he was small and hopeless and unknowing he has had his sights set on a king. Just, sometimes his sight would be knocked away and each time he had to find his way back it was harder. But not anymore.

Hakuryuu is awake enough to hear his words but doesn’t respond, as expected. Judar kisses his neck, gently, over and over, until Hakuryuu has lulled to near sleep, his head sinking into the fluff of his pillow and leaving more of his neck open for Judar’s touch.

He places his hand on Hakuryuu’s chest and slides it down, across smooth scars and skin and downy hair. He cups the inside of Hakuryuu’s thigh then flattens his palm along where his thigh and hip meet. His thumb stretches out over the tender skin of his pelvis and smooths over soft curls of hair.

At first Hakuryuu responds to his touch favorably, twisting so Judar can get a better grip, his hips drawing back to close what little distance is left between them. The feel of him is warm and pliant in his hand. He gives an experimental squeeze and tug, dragging his thumb almost roughly along the skin and over.

Hakuryuu makes a sleepy sound of content. There’s a tinge of pain to it closer to whimpering as Judar carefully works his flesh harder. His rukh flutter and crowd them, glowing a dim pink. Without thinking, Judar reaches his free hand out to them, and they buzz excitedly, drifting close like he’s a magnet a beacon a lantern that will burn them to dust. They mingle with his rukh so closely they could meld into one.

He continues to watch as he strokes Hakuryuu absently, noting how they quiver with Hakuryuu and undulate in time with his labored breathing. Dusky pink rukh lands in his palm, and his immediate impulse is to close his fingers around it. Let its wings struggle in his fist until he lets it fall as a crumpled ball of fading light.

The only reason anything has happened is because the rukh love him, all rukh, not just Hakuryuu’s. That his own has become the color of pitch doesn’t seem to matter to even the whitest rukh, which will still faithfully kiss his skin and linger in his presence. They hover everywhere to hum reassurance under his skin, as if black rukh is not as hopeless as he now understands it is. 

Their love is a unique kind of doom, but it probably doesn’t apply to the other magi.

In his hold Hakuryuu squirms, crying out a little as Judar’s pace increases without meaning to. Then one hand starts to claw at Judar’s, trying to take control as his weakly bucking hips fail to create any semblance of rhythm.

“Hakuryuu, I didn’t realize you were awake.” He kisses Hakuryuu’s shoulder several times and ignores the fingers pulling at his hand.

“Don’t… Don’t while I’m asleep, Judar,” he says breathlessly.

“But you’re not asleep.”

Judar slows to a near stop and Hakuryuu has virtually given up. His cool fingers are now doing little more than caressing the warmth of Judar’s hand.

Judar reaches out and then carefully lowers his hand to the bed, in front of Hakuryuu’s face. “You can’t see it, but your rukh and mine are in my palm.”

Hakuryuu swallows. His hand tentatively moves forward only to stop at Judar’s wrist. “What does it look like? Birds?” he asks quietly, as if he will scare them off.

“Ah… yeah, little birds, I guess.”

“Is it still there?” His fingers stretch closer.

“Yup.” He leans his forehead onto Hakuryuu’s shoulder. “Our rukh look good together, they like each other.”

Hakuryuu’s rukh is a seemingly endless twilight where darkness looms but never actually arrives and Judar’s is a void. 

“If you were the magi I’d happily be your king,” Judar says.

“If you weren’t a magi you wouldn’t be here at all.”

Judar laughs silently. “I know.” He is so keenly aware of that it physically pains him. It turns his lungs into ice with shards that stabs into his heart with each breath. It makes his hands tremble with something he can’t even name, that he can’t stop, and sometimes he just wants to freeze them, too.

“Judar?” That uncertain tone is the closest Hakuryuu gets to voicing his concern since Judar started coming to his bed night after night without a real explanation. Usually he acts like he can’t tell something is off when he can see it clearly. Pretend they aren’t so familiar with each other, as if anyone would believe that.

“Hakuryuu,” he croons, nuzzling the side of his neck. He starts up the movement of his body and hand again.

Hakuryuu sighs. “Whatever.” 

Judar brings a thigh up to keep Hakuryuu steady while he slowly grinds against the prince’s restless backside. 

He wants to kiss Hakuryuu. He wants their tongues to meet and twist together, resisting air, only parting for the sake of efficiency. He wants his tongue to know every inch of Hakuryuu, his insides, his scars, and he wants Hakuryuu to eagerly reciprocate. He wants Hakuryuu to be with him while the world fails to notice their absence and burns without them.

The heat swarming like gnats inside him from his toes to his face is overwhelming. It’s dizzyingly pleasant and makes the room spin, the bed spin. Everything that isn’t them blurs into gray nothing. He feels like he’s going to flake and collapse into ashes, and as long as Hakuryuu collapses with him that’s more than fine.

Here, in this bed, with this act, Judar wouldn’t be surprised if he agreed.

Hakuryuu can’t make up his mind about which direction to move. Every time he presses back against Judar he seems to regret it and quickly bucks his hips forward. To solve this Hakuryuu forcefully rolls to Judar, but given there’s roughly zero room between them they end up uncomfortably crammed together. Several sections of Judar’s hair are stuck under Hakuryuu, which makes moving away more painful than it needs to be.

Groaning, Judar rolls to his back and hauls Hakuryuu on top of him in the process. He lets out a sigh of relief once his hair is free of strain.

“Sorry.” He covers the lower half of his face under his hand. 

“Aw, don’t hide your pretty blushing face, Hakuryuu.”

Hakuryuu gives him a look that’s only somewhat disdainful. Judar smiles and moves his hips up from the side, making the expression crumble into pleasure as Hakuryuu hunches over from the sensation.

“It’s fine,” Judar says. “I’m blushing too.” Though his face certainly is not as red.

“Shut up.”

Hakuryuu catches his breath and doesn’t look at him. Shaking with arousal, Hakuryuu finds a better position on Judar’s thighs. He doesn’t move and Judar waits for him. Pink rukh land on him but Hakuryuu can’t sense their encouragement or the desire they pulse with.

Hakuryuu swallows dryly and proceeds to clumsily rock and jerk against him. His eyes are closed in deep concentration, but it’s more for show. Everything about this is unrefined, frantic. His head gradually sinks while his stomach convulses with feeling, his thighs and hips twitch as though rejecting gratification.

Judar reaches out and brings Hakuryuu’s head just below his chest. Saliva drips and slides down his side. He can feel Hakuryuu muttering nonstop on his skin, can feel his trembling that much more with this extent of contact.

And then Hakuryuu gives a sharp gasp and the thrusts stutter before resuming with shallow but firm bursts. Judar wraps his arms around him as his climax nears and finally envelops him. Throughout it Hakuryuu continues to rut against him, shuddering with gasps that lack air. His palms drag flat down Judar’s sides. Rukh whirr incessantly overhead.

Sticky heat spills between them. It pools and flows down his pelvis and thighs. It smears from Hakuryuu’s continuous movement. The sensation is delightfully lurid on his receptive skin. 

He regrets not being able to see the look on Hakuryuu’s face, but he is familiar enough with it to imagine it perfectly. It is an expression so wonderfully unlike any other he makes, full of undiluted affection for Judar he’d never show anywhere else. Coupled with Hakuryuu’s last few thrusts and his own upward movements it’s enough to make him come as well. Blinding carnal satisfaction spikes higher than what anything else could ever hope to achieve.

The cooling viscous mess between their legs spreads further when Hakuryuu drags himself up Judar’s abdomen. He places kisses along Judar’s neck and jaw. Although it’s little more than his mouth pressing to damp skin, Judar cherishes each tired kiss and what they prove.

The rukh above them hasn’t settled yet. Black and pink and white, they swirl together like a dying storm.

Judar rolls back to his side, taking Hakuryuu with him. He dips his head to nudge back Hakuryuu’s so he can kiss him properly, deeply, like it will breathe life into them both. When he pulls away for breath, it’s Hakuryuu who leans back in, his arms looping around Judar’s neck to keep him close.

There are many things he wants to say to Hakuryuu, but he knows all of them will be rejected and thus ruin this wondrous moment they’ve achieved. So all he can do is kiss him, and hold him, and wait for the day that he’s taken away and must be stolen back.


End file.
